


The picture

by Ali_948



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ali_948/pseuds/Ali_948
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew Felicity would find a way somehow" Memory-loss Al Sah-him finds something that could help bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The picture

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really obssesed right now with all the ways Felicity could be Oliver's trigger to snap out of the LoA mind control/brainwashing.  
> This is my first fic since I cancelled my account two years ago, so it feels good to be back.  
> Comments appreciated! :)

It was dark outside and he was exhausted. After yet another day of non-stop League of Assassin’s training, his body was practically screaming at him to get into bed and just turn it all off. However, in spite of the pain, he felt strong.  
He felt this dense cloud in his head that had been there since he woke up in the basement of Nanda Parbat, somehow blocking everything about his past self that was trying to fight its way into his mind to distract him from the only thing that was important, his training. After all, he was Al Sah-him, the Heir of the most dangerous man alive, the Demon’s Head, Ra’s al Ghul and his duty was to live up to the position.  
This was a good thing. A great honor. He always had to remind himself of this, as to silence this little soft voice that came from somewhere deep in his mind, this sweet voice that told him that it was, indeed, the opposite. He liked the voice, but what it was saying was nonsense and not at all what the League needed, so he just chose to ignore it hoping it would just go away.  
This day wasn’t different from any other, but somehow he felt more awake, more focused. Perhaps it had something to do with today’s training being all physical and not mental. Mental training left her mind numb until he couldn’t even think of his own name.  
Maybe this is why today he noticed it for the first time. This white piece of paper hidden in the folds of his assassin’s uniform. It was folded into a tiny square, which is probably why he hadn’t noticed it before. He opened it slowly, curious but scared of what it might be.  
It was a picture. A picture of a girl. A smiling girl. If he had to describe his first impression of her, he would’ve said she looked like the sun. She had her soft blonde hair in a ponytail and was wearing a pink and grey dress that hug her tiny, perfect body and this adorable glasses framing her face.  
And she was smiling, and her smile made his heart skip a beat like it was a reflex, like it was trained to do so.  
He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the picture, the cloud in his mind pressing to be set free harder than ever. He probably knew her, from his past life as that man named Oliver Queen. But it felt like it was more than that. It didn’t feel like just a memory, it felt like a dream.  
Still staring at the little white rectangle, he sat in his bed and looked around his stateroom. Suddenly, all these sensations and flashes of images started coming into his mind. They were vague perceptions, mere blurry fragments of what, he realized, were memories.  
A green leather suit. A city that needed to be protected. A red pen. Bright-colored dresses. A hospital’s maternity ward. The smell of fresh-made coffee. The girl, her smile. Her body, tangled with his in that same bed.  
The light in the darkness.  
A name that was fighting its way out of his lips. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it meant happiness, and pain, and love, and home. It made his heart race and his knees weak.  
He tried to fight it, to push the memories back into their jail because he knew that the moment he let go, there was no turning back. It didn’t take him long to realize that it was too late. Whatever Ra’s priestess had used to erase it all, it had nothing to do against this feeling, against this powerful force that a tiny, apparently innocuous picture had brought with it.  
So he let go and the word came to his lips. They moved in a familiar way, like they were used to saying it, enjoying every syllable, every delicious sound.  
“Fe-li-ci-ty”  
And just like that, the cloud vanished and every memory filled his mind.


End file.
